Emma West Ryde Whore ❤️

About Gold Coast

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

403 - Permission Denied

I love the creek that winds near the community centre. Kinda reminds me, again, of those haunting lines: “Nothing is lost, every tear is sacred.” Even on rainy days, it's magic. Oh, and gotta mention the old community hall on Victoria St. That place carries wild stories.

Student allegedly ‘dragged’ woman, threatened to kill family